2. I Must Run

I get up shakily, not daring to turn the light on; they are watching me. I pull my converse on, the closet thing I have to running shoes. I pull on denim shorts, I pull on a tank top.

I must run.

I shove clean underwear into a backpack. I shove in a jacket and another set of clothes. I shove in my toothbrush, baby wipes, first aid kit.

They are coming.

I pack a picture of my family. I zip it shut. I must run.

I look around my room for one last time; I know I will never return.

Then I hear it.

Scratching.

It's coming from downstairs. I must run. I will go out the window. I open it, forgetting the drop of 14 stories.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. I must run. I must run. I must run.

I grab my leather gloves, I go out of my room, to the landing, to the laundry shoot. I open it, I grab the umbrella next to it.

Creak. Patter. Patter. Patter. I must run.

I throw my backpack down the shoot, I get in, closing the lid with the umbrella. I let go of the sides. I must run. I slide down thrillingly fast. I want to scream; I can't. My hair is whipping around my face, my body is throbbing with my pulse, I am scared. I come towards the bottom, putting my hands and feet out to slow me down before the bend. A horrible noise screams throughout the building; it is my sister. I must run.

I come out the bottom of the shoot, I can sense the darkness closing around me. I shine the torch into the darkness; a hiss. I wield the umbrella in defense, torch in my mouth, backpack on. I turn my head to locate the hiss, no corner left unseen. I look up, there is nothing on the ceiling.

A cool breath tickles the back of my neck, I stand stock still. I feel a rough, dry, heavy thing run down my arm, coiling itself down slowly, a tongue flicking my finger tips. I know it is a snake without looking at it, and I cannot look at it. If I look at it I will want to run. If I run now, I die. It goes down my leg, wrapping itself around the limb, it's rough skin scraping against it. I pray I don't bleed. It glides off, languidly, I don't know where, I don't want to look at it. I slowly turn my head towards the door, then lower the light to show the path I must take. It is clear.

Slowly, slowly, I walk towards the door, my footsteps heavy, the sound light. I don't look down, I look at the door. I make it, I turn the door handle gently, a scraping noise echoes throughout the building as I do so. I wrench it open, the alleyway greets me. I go out into it, closing the door behind me.

It is silent. I look around, it is deserted, it is dark. I wait, I don't know what for, but I know I cannot run now, I must wait.